


And a thousand suns will fall to ruin

by arrowinthesky (restfulsky5)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alien Abduction, Ambiguous storytelling, Angst, But maybe not as creepy as I think it is, Creepy, Dehumanization, Hurt Jim, Hurt Spock, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Alteration, Mental Transformation, Mind Meld, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Protective Spock, your guess is as good as mine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-28 23:59:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15717735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restfulsky5/pseuds/arrowinthesky
Summary: Sapah had little power over his current circumstances, but he could save his Pet.





	And a thousand suns will fall to ruin

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I read Franz Kafka's short story, Metamorphosis, last week.
> 
> And then this happened.
> 
> Please heed the tagged warnings. This is very different from my usual fare!
> 
> Additional untagged warnings are in the bottom notes (for the sake of those who do not wish to read spoilers before they get a chance to read). Check them if you are easily triggered.
> 
> Please note I do write angst most of the time but it’s usually tempered with hurt/comfort. I won’t give anything else away as to not spoil things. As I said before, please heed the warnings.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the story. I am posting this completed and without a beta - before I lose my nerve! Please kindly forgive any mistakes you may find. Thank you!

Sapah sat in the middle of his bedroom floor, facing the picture window. Evening had come, the panoramic view of the sea, the foaming, white-tipped waves and the moonlight’s reflection at the water's surface, soothing him as he prepared to enter a state of meditation.

 

Shadows inched their way into his living quarters, as if unused to the sparseness of his accommodations. He would ignore them, their hasty fluttering and ignorant, dormant presence. He preferred to look ahead, to his future. Not the stagnant nature of the present, time hindered by the contents within these walls and what had been given to him by his Elder.

 

If he could only utilize his newly acquired power, yet another world would be opened up to him. Would meditation provide him with the inspiration for story? For thought? Or would his mind fester, like it had when he had attempted to renew the dying embers of his previous life?

 

A cold shiver inched down his spine, as taunting as the hiss of a poisonous snake.

 

Surely, temperature had not induced this shameful tremble in his body. He kept his home suffocatingly hot by others’ standards. It must be the anticipation of seeing his companion tonight, the sensation gripping him until he has no breath.

 

No, it could not be fear of the Before World. He had rid himself of the danger through consistent meditation, purging the imprint of a time gone by through the retraining of his mind at the G’ewlocke’s request.

 

He clenched his fists, setting them on his lap and forcing them into submission. For it was as it should be. He would never again recall his previous life, nothing of the Before World.

 

The G’ewlocke had tamed his mind and transformed his memories much like one would fine tune the keys of a massive instrument with keys. One at a time, but dependent upon the loss of the prior to purge the next.

 

But he was not bitter for it. He was grateful. Relieved that the isolated places of his heart that had once threatened to ruin him no longer hollowed out even larger holes.

 

He had endured, and he must continue to endure. This world exuded a freedom fit for his own kind, giving him everything he had lacked in the Before World. One must merely be open to it. Breathe in the oddities and welcome them with the renewing of one’s body and soul, allowing the thrill of the unknown to propel them forward to a promising future. A future with a companion.

 

His lot was acceptable. He was pleased to be a Trainer, a member of society that would never be alone, and always useful. Innumerable souls wandered this sordid world in turmoil. He would do his part to claim one - the one - and be its master. A savior to it, for as long as they both shall live on this new, blessed planet.

 

A sharp knock at the door intruded on his meditation, the interruption pulling him from his thoughts. He did not hurry to answer it.

 

He must consider his reaction to everything.

 

Another moment passed and upon the second, more insistent knock, Sapah made his way to his front door and with a soft command to the computer, flooded the porch with light.

 

They were early. He shouldn’t be surprised. They operated on their own terms, expecting all others, including Trainers of high status like Sapah, to be ready at a moment’s notice.

 

Sapah had learned to accept the unpredictable ways of the G’ewlocke immediately following his first transformation. It had not been difficult. He had adapted more easily than the others, who had struggled with each stage. At least two hundred had died the first day, six hundred the next. He did not take count after that.

 

But Sapah had understood the consequences, his attention to detail and his intuitiveness granting him keen insight into these strange ways.

 

The greatest challenge of a trainer, Sapah discovered, was the ability to control one’s pet. If he himself did not adjust well, his pet would suffer the consequences. The G’ewlocke held no reservations terminating a pet who had strayed or had disobeyed their rules.

 

And if its Trainer could not curtail its reckless or disobedient behavior, the punishment was even greater. Torture, prolonged.

 

Sapah had little power over his current circumstances, but he could save his Pet.

 

And so he did.

 

Soon after his public example, others had tried to do the same. But he had excelled in his transformation, incomparably. He harbored no pride in his heart for his accomplishments. They had educated him in the downfall of self-conceit and the tragedy of overconfidence, purging him of these traits.

 

He understood the full benefits of mental retraining and liberation, as taxing as it had been. He relished the memory of his brutal conditioning, because with it, he now exuded the necessary, proper behavior. Most importantly, he excelled on behalf of the creature of which he was put in charge.

 

He cracked open his front door and stared. First at the creature flanked by two G’ewlocke, the others following. As he gave his Pet an initial, swift perusal, he determined the third metamorphosis had been successful.

 

Joy filled him, his thoughts. He barely contained it, tamping it down before his heart burst. He had been told this emotional reaction was fleeting but normal. He must not grieve the way he succumbed it. It was acceptable for Trainers to appreciate the third transformation of their Pets far more than the first two and perhaps even the fourth - such emotion was accepted if it was subsequently purged.

 

‘It is the muzzle,’ the G’ewlocke had explained, before leading his Pet away and ushering him into the presence of the wisest healers.

 

It was the impediment of speech, another, he thought.

 

Sapah soaked in his Pet’s appearance, reveling in it. He had done this to his Pet, although the Healers had broken and reshaped its form with their hands, removing parts and replacing them with superior organs, turning its foul blood into a delicacy the Trainer must protect. These were the changes of which he had imagined in his dreams since his arrival and the result of the very transformation he had ordained. He could not help but smile for a moment. Why had he doubted in the G’ewlocke? They had fulfilled his desire, going beyond his expectations.

 

He straightened his spine until he towered over the G’ewlocke, asserting his status as he looked down at his Pet. A black muzzle entrapped his pet’s grotesque face, a face that had yet to receive its proper protective scales or gems of gold where its bony cheeks had been. He delighted in knowing that in just two weeks’ time, he could remove the muzzle and reveal the contour of his pet’s redeemed face, a face one that would match the rest of its new body, and the images the G’ewlocke had presented to him that first day.

 

Sapah could not believe he had once considered the pictures abhorrent. He let his fingers wander over the thick straps of the muzzle and the maze of forced, necessary submission, anticipation building in him again as he imagined the Healers’ handiwork underneath.

 

Ah, it would be a wonderful sight, could he see his Pet. No more cheeks like the People of Twisted Words had preferred. No more ears that rounded, or stuck out from the sides of the head. No more hideous, naked flesh, only fur-coated flesh that bent to Sapah’s every whim. Its eyes would be more widened than ever now, brows curving up on the ends like the peaks of the Gorlocke Mountains, and the fog that settled there. He imagined thick, luscious hair cascading down his Pet’s head and over its shoulders like vines. Tangling yet braided in perfect harmony with other adornments he had chosen for it and replacing the bland, coarser hair that had lost its luster in this atmosphere. Such hair was more valuable than the Twisted Words’ gold or silver, a pleasure that could not be bought.

 

And if a Trainer wanted his or her Pet to have a pointed chin, their pet would be given one. He wanted his pet fashioned with a unique face, a prized face, that would distinguish it from all others. It would be fuller, so he has more to kiss, more gems with which to decorate it. It was malleable, now, its bones flexing under little force, making it easier for Pets to push grunts through their weak mouths. A collar would be fitted around their neck, needed for their protection and as a sign or ownership.

 

And his Pet would, indeed, have a collar. In fact, it wore one now. A slender collar to be replaced with a larger one at its Name Ceremony, marking its maturity.

 

Pets were not permitted to form words or sounds other than when eating or asleep in bed. Their noises were as hideous as their previous forms, making no sense. Sapah’s kin - now the G’ewlocke - had silenced them out of pity. No only in their minds but in their physicality, as well, fashioning them into a creature and providing them with a permanent respite from their previously wretched state.

 

And now, after much work and dedication, Pets had become symbols of status, hardwork and imagination. They were a canvas, an esteeemed work of art. Most importantly, they reminded their enemies of the power of the G’ewlocke. The Empire would always protect what belonged to them, at any cost.

 

As their enemies witnessed the Great Change in fallen foes, and were awed by the Empire’s power, they would realize it was useless to resist. They would not fight back, saving thousands of lives in the process.

 

Yes, indeed. The G’ewlocke, of which he was now one, were superior in all ways. Above all else, they were merciful.

 

“Ah,” he murmured, kneeling and tenderly taking his Pet’s face in his hands. His slid his fingers over the muzzle, urging his Pet to be ready for him.

 

Sapah pressed his finger into the smallest, open part of the muzzle, to its mouth. His Pet wriggled at first, but then submitted. A ridged tongue wrapped around his finger and began to suck, noisily, as a baby calf feeding on its mother’s teat.

 

Sapah’s eyes closed in incomparable bliss.

 

“It is ridged? This is unexpected, but good,” he murmured, caught up in the sensation.

 

“We knew you would be pleased,” the G’ewlocke said in unison.

 

“I am.” He turned back to his Pet. “Do not stop,” he told it.

 

His Pet obliged him, obedient, eagerly continuing.

 

Sapah closed his eyes again in unmatched peace, reveling in the sensation of its tongue on his flesh, the grooves which had formed naturally on his pet’s tongue that now ran across his finger. Anewed contentment washed over Sapah at the touch, even greater pleasure springing forth in his soul.

 

This was promising, indeed. That a natural process had begun so soon showed that his pet had lost all traces of its horrid previous form. It would not survive the Reversal, a most dreaded punishment once a ‘pet’ had been awakened in its transformed self. Oh, how torturous it would be to know the new, then to return to the old, the mind embracing both worlds but the Pet unable to understand what had happened to it. Its fear and pain would continue for all of its miserable days!

 

But Sapah was confident his Pet would not make the same mistake one of its unfortunate friends had. It could not, having reached the third stage. At this time, all traces of the Before World were permanently wiped.

 

Sapah purred in his throat and removed his finger, regretting the loss. His Pet’s tongue was a prize, indeed. He would reward his Pet for this instinctive response to provide for his needs. A touch which provided him with the same level headedness he would receive from meditation. Yet the grooves held more purpose than this alone.

 

Now his pet could sup on the food allotted to him. A broth infused with the algae of the sea and the spice and dung of the burrowing Guardian beetles. The beetles drove the spirit of the land, unearthing a rich, red clay whilst forming their many tunnels. The clay was used to create the base of the broth, enriching it with the necessary minerals to continue to transform the mind of every Pet. The broth’s ingredients were like spindly fingers, always eager, reaching and caressing the deepest crevices of his Pet’s brain. They refashioned every hidden part of the creature into one whose mind was more fit to serve the earth and Sapah and his kin, and to run along the ground on all fours with abandon, than to rise like a dimming light in the sky, where it would inevitably die out.

 

Since Sapah could not fathom his existence without his Pet, he was ever grateful that it would be by his side forever.

 

No, his Pet was not aware that with each spoonful, it morphed into a creature of the G’ewlocke more than ever before, losing itself into what it was truly meant to be. A glorious servant of the Trainer, on all fours, its deformed head now glorified and perfect and redeemed, bowed to the ground in grateful subservience, its body succumbing to the the G’ewlocke’s ways and their ways alone.

 

Indeed, the transformation had eased his Pet’s mental strain, Sapah observed, pleased. He would forever be grateful to E’Gyr, who had sanctioned this Metamorphosis for all of the Twisted Words. Yes, Sapah must prepare another sacrifice to show his appreciation to the Emperor.

 

“E’Gyr of Tapelk has given your Pet a name,” the Healer to the right of his pet announced. “He will announce it at the ceremony tomorrow.”

 

Sapah stood taller. “On behalf of my pet, I am honored.”

 

He patted his Pet’s head. It looked up at him confusedly. Yet when Sapah did not look away and held its gaze, joy soon filled its eyes at the reassurance.

 

The G’ewlocke frowned. “Sapah, unwarranted touching -”

 

“Confuses them and twists their emotions,” Sapah finished, ignoring the twist in his chest. “I did not forget,” he stated, withholding his fondness and, instead, giving his pet a narrowed, dark look. “I wished to see its reaction to unwarranted favor, and be disciplined anew. It must learn not be prideful - as it is feeling now,” he admonished it.

 

His pet’s eyes widened. It whimpered, a ragged, tortured sound which stuck in its throat, where the pitiful sound belonged.

 

“No,” Sapah said sharply, his ears anxious to silence the atrocious noise.

 

His pet presented itself, bowing into the ground, head down, its muzzle digging into the earth so that its ass protruded into the air. A position of shame and acknowledgement of having shamed itself.

 

So it had begun. Pupils dilated, Sapah smacked his Pet on its bottom. Hard. Unrelenting in his own strength.

 

Sapah used all his power, grinding his teeth as he paddled it. His Pet rocked forward on its front legs and whined, its pathetic sound locking once more in its throat.

 

He did it again, his Pet only huffing a breath this time. “Good,” he murmured, pleased it had not made such unfortunate noises like before.

 

He swatted it a third time. A fourth. His Pet shuddered at the fifth, and leaned into the sixth, the seventh, and the eighth.

 

He punished his pet, smacking it ten times twice over and bringing it to its High Space, where lessons were learned at a greater place, the discipline sinking easily into their psyche. He hit as if he were in a fight and, soon, an inevitable murky, glaze coated his Pet’s eyes. The haze would remain, until it submitted to him in complete obedience, to the Great Change, the renewer of all life.

 

It was a command that was not his to give, and he felt the power of it emulating from the G’ewlocke.

 

A warning of what was to come. Breathing heavily, Sapah stopped, before the punishment became an unnecessary painful act. “Enough,” he told his Pet.

 

The G’ewlocke watched the Pet as it remained still and quiet, presenting as it should, waiting and obedient. The only difference was the fresh loss of awareness, the way it sagged, bending to Sapah’s will. It could do nothing but take the punishment and learn from it. And, now, it would not feel the pain of the next change. One of the most remarkable transformations of all.

 

“It is time,” the G’ewlocke said to Sapah.

 

“We are ready,” he acknowledged.

 

“Pet,” the G’ewlocke sang at once. “Change!”

 

Sapah’s Pet tensed, its body a slave to their demands. Sapah held his breath, watching as a new appendage formed at the base of his Pet’s rump, at the sound of the chorus.

 

His Pet did not cry out, but breathed heavily into its muzzle, its body trembling, completely succumbing to its natural processes. Oh, how its body must still rage with fire, stinging from the paddle, from the formation of new cells, yet overcome by the ecstasy of growing into its true form.

 

His pet was a brave creature, indeed.

 

Sapah watched in expectation and increased awe as the tail, a sleek, furless golden appendage, grew as a bud before unfurling, then curling to the floor, growing still. And when it was over, when the next stage was complete, his Pet was spent, limp.

 

He saw the exhaustion in its eyes. Yet, it was so beautiful in its helplessness and its greatest need, not understanding what was happening to it, but so courageous, that Sapah was speechless. Truly, his Pet brought honor to them all. Its tail stretched over twenty yards, exquisite in both color and form.

 

The G’ewlocke murmured to each other in satisfaction, before looking at Sapah. “Be ready in the morning,” they sang.

 

Sapah nodded. “We will be ready.”

 

They played with his Pet’s glossy tail before leaving, running their hands down it and smiling to themselves in approval, while the Pet looked on, mute and stupefied. They soon left Sapah alone with his thoughts and his Pet. He looked at it. “Come.”

 

The Pet wriggled out of its presenting form and lifted its muzzled head.

 

It followed him back into his house, looking back at its tail in bright-eyed fascination, unsteady on its feet as it relearned to balance itself.

 

After a slower walk indoors for the sake of his Pet, Sapah took at seat at the head of his table, and nodded. His Pet obeyed the silent command and slunk into its usual spot at Sapah’s feet, its eyes hooded as it watched him eat, wrapping its tail tighter and tighter around its body as the seconds passed.

 

Although his Pet would be especially hungry tonight, Sapah did not feed it other than its usual seed. He would give it broth tomorrow when it was in its greatest need. For when it was in its greatest need, his Pet learned to trust him. For now, it must watch and learn, reduced to a simple creature whose needs were met only by its Master. He must have J’him’s full trust and cooperation. For them to both survive, he must.

 

“I will take care of you, my J’him,” he said softly, calling him the secret name.

 

His Pet’s eyes suddenly leaked a clear, blue liquid, at the same time confusion filling them to the brim.

 

Guilt pricked him, like the sharp quills with which he wrote in his journal. Sapah tore his gaze away from his treasure, his J’him, and smoothed his features before his Pet saw them, aggravating his state of confusion.

 

Sadness his only solace, for reasons he could not understand, he leaned down and scratched his pet behind the ears. His fingers ached to touch, his body to be touched. Alone, he would fulfill his need, keeping J’him close, with hopes that it comforted it, as well.

 

And when he was finished with his meal and sipping his tea, he began to knead J’him’s broadening shoulders, its contorted back. Where pain grew like a bad weed, thanks to J’him’s constant exercise across the desert lands, the relentless training the G’ewlocke enforced on all pets for hours at at time. But where additional muscles had formed, ridges that rippled from great use when it raced across the dry, barren land on its four legs.

 

 _The Pet must learn to move, quickly, as a predator,_ they had said. _It is a formidable, glorious animal in battle, but meek and lowly with its Master._

 

No, Sapah, thought bitterly, it must be a primitive, stupid creature at all times.

 

Sapah did not know from where the next words came, but they employed his breath as naturally as his breath required air. He let them fall from his tongue, eager to get rid of them, as traitorous ideas of escape filled his most sacred, hidden places. It soon became a burden from which he could not ignore, a fight that was birthed from the love he held for J’him.

 

This he knew well, although he did not fully understand it.

 

“A thousand suns will fall to ruin,” he whispered, looking up at the black expanse, void of the illuminated objects his fading memory called stars. “While my one will survive.”

 

He longed to share the thought with J’him, but his Pet stared down at its new toy, its tail, playing with it with bandaged paws. He made a mental note to apply balm to J’him’s blisters before bed.

 

Sapah should be pleased J’him was happy in its ignorance. For now, that was all he could ask for. “A thousand suns fall to ruin, while my one will survive,” he murmured. “As dust.”

 

He sighed and pressed a kiss atop J’him’s soft, warm head, envisioning a spot of foreign yellow, downy hair there that brushed his cheek, instead.

 

“ _Spock.”_

 

He stilled. “My name is Sapah, J’him.”

 

“ _Spock.”_

 

“My - ” Sapah stared down at his Pet.

 

It couldn’t be, but it was.

 

His Pet had spoken, its eyes as brilliant as the sun and an ever-deepening blue, staring back. With hair - that hair -

 

“ _Spock.”_ His Pets’ lips moved, shaping a detested name, its mouth no longer hindered by the muzzle.

 

That name. He had heard it before. But how could J’him be speaking to him?

 

“ _Babe - ”_

 

“No,” he said, shoving the foreigner away.

 

The blonde creature cried out, but did not relent.

 

His Pet reached for him and crowded, strangely, against his forehead -

 

His heart pounded wildly, stirring his blood until it coursed like a raging fire through his body. What was this? J’him but not J’him who had touched him. But it was what he had wanted, wasn’t it? This touch, that he craved on his most desperate days...

 

His Pets fingers were cool and prodding. Purposeful, driving Spock - no Sapah - from his duties as Trainer -

 

Spock lurched up in bed. His head throbbed. It was dark. Someone breathed heavily beside him.

 

And he—he was not alone. “Ashayam,” he said raggedly.

 

“I’m here,” the man whispered, his voice as broken as his own.

 

“J-Jim?” Spock blinked, drinking in the sight of the room, which became more familiar with each gasping breath, as did the blonde man who was on his knees on the bed, staring guilty at him and hunched over in despair.

 

“I - I’m sorry,” his husband stammered, his beautiful cheeks flushing a deeper red.

 

Spock blinked again. The room - it was too warm for Jim. Why had he not told him? He would never allow him to suffer so.

 

“I know you said never to touch you, meld with you while you were sleeping,” Jim rambled, as he did whenever he was exhausted, excited - or frightened. “But I’ve been trying to wake you up, for awhile now, you were having a nightmare, but nothing was work -”

 

“Jim, hush.” He stared at his husband, whose eyes had filled with tears. “I am fine now.”

 

“No, you’re not,” Jim said, his shaking hand wiping at the wetness slipping down his cheeks. “It w-was them again, wasn’t it?”

 

Spock could not lie, even in the face of Jim’s anxiety. “Yes, my love.”

 

Jim’s expression fell. “I hate this.”

 

“I know.” Spock reached for him, slipping his arms around the distressed captain and pulling him to his chest as if he had been the one to experience a nightmare, not Spock.

 

Jim tucked himself into Spock’s side, by his heart, clinging to him as well, but the younger man still did not relax. Rather, he held himself rigidly against Spock’s chest, his thoughts as turbulent as his own.

 

“Does your back bother you, Jim?” Spock asked softly, one hand slipping down the curvature of Jim’s spine.

 

“Some,” Jim said after a moment. “It just started. I thought by now it…” he stopped, a confused look on his face. “I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

 

“It does matter.” Spock slid his other hand back around from his lover’s waist, kneading, gently, his lower back, then his hips, the slight swell of his buttocks. He did so until Jim melted against him.

 

“Thank you,” Jim breathed.

 

“Gratitude is unnecessary. It is a pleasure to serve you, Ashayam.”

 

And since Jim still did not fall asleep, and had possibly seen something he shouldn’t, Spock knew of only one true way for him to sink back into a dreamless sleep.

 

“Do not worry about me,” Spock whispered into the stillness of the night. “I can hear you thinking, my Jim.”

 

Jim’s breath hitched. “But, you said - ”

 

“It was years ago, Ashayam.” Four, to be exact.

 

Jim grew quiet. Too quiet. “I never forgot Tarsus.”

 

“It is different for me.” Yet Spock was half-human, too.

 

Jim turned in his arms, staring up at him pleadingly. “Tell me the truth. What happened to them?”

 

It was the same question Jim had asked a hundred and one times before and will ask a thousand times more.

 

He would oblige, but he could not tell him the truth. Just like he had not written it in his official report.

 

He would tell the truth that would keep his beloved at peace.

 

“I saw from afar. They did not survive. _You_ \- your counterpart - did not survive to even begin the first transformation. Sapah is alone,” Spock murmured, coveting his husband’s warmth. The long limbs that tugged at and stole his covers each night without fail. The human feet, a perfect pair that carried his love’s strong form throughout the corridors of the ship. The striking blue eyes, full of love, unconditional, enduring love. The wide grin which blossomed at the first sight of Spock in the morning, stirring his loins. The intelligence and wit which deepened his longing. Yes, he thought to himself, breathing in Jim’s musk and scent of sleep. He is _mine_. “Sapah is alone, but he is strong, Ashayam.”

 

Jim sucked in a sharp breath, his expression twisting into an even deeper sadness that Spock identified with all too well. “I can hardly think about him without - ”

 

“Then consider it no longer, my love,” Spock murmured.

 

Jim’s brow furrowed, but before he could speak, or recall what would traumatize him into a catatonic existence, Spock’s fingers danced across his face. “Forget,” he whispered to his beloved.

 

Jim’s eyes grew heavy, clouding with contentment and sleep.

 

Spock’s lips ghosted across his temple as he whispered it again.

 

“ _Forget.”_

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: Body horror, non-sexual discipline/punishment
> 
> Please note that Sapah and J’him are NOT in a sexual relationship. I just want to make that clear. J’him is too vulnerable and cannot give consent. Sapah is very mindful of this. But Spock and Jim are in a committed, sexual relationship.
> 
> It is up to you to reason and decide if Sapah and J’him are the same Jim and Spock in this story.
> 
> I know this was a very different story than what people might expect from me. I actually don’t read or watch horror except in rare circumstances. For example, if it’s mainly of a suspenseful flavor that should still let me sleep at night, without the gore, then it’s something I’ll consider watching or reading. I personally just don’t like or appreciate being truly scared or fully creeped out. This story, however is possibly less horror of that sort and more disturbing in a different way? I honestly don’t know! I have nothing to really compare it to! 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews are always greatly appreciated. <3


End file.
